dynasties darkened
by ahsokatanos
Summary: They love. They fear. They have hope. They are weak. And it hurts. Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts . . .


**HIS** eyes, like the silence before a devastating cloudburst, were never meant for kindness.

Clear as crystals and sharp as blades, they followed even the slightest movement that flitted over the room filled with shadows. Nothing could hide from that predatory gaze. Living or manufactured, there was no escape.

He lounged upon a throne forged of obsidian and raw power. It was a completely ornamental object, for this boy of only nineteen years was prince of nothing. His lean figure, caped and clad in material darker than the outermost reaches of the galaxy, was slouched within the cathedra, bored and brooding with hatred in his unwavering stare, hatred that had been nursed within his chest for years, as if he was caring for a blooming rose inside the cavity between his ribs. If he was truthful with himself, which he hardly ever was, he had little idea what this loathing was directed at. He only knew it was there, and it would never leave him.

Luke Skywalker sat with the universe at his gloved fingertips, it's throat mere inches from his barred teeth, and he _loved_ it. Or, hungered for it in a way someone like him might interpret love. He thrived off of its terror, thrived off of the shockwaves of fear that pulsed through those who laid their eyes upon him, the last light flickering within their pupils the scarlet glow of his saber arcing through the air before passing through flesh and bone as if they were holographic.

But that bitter greed and maniacal high was not something he experienced alone.

"I regret tearing you away from your morning sulking, but I'm afraid we need to talk." _She_ purred, approaching from behind with the hollow sound of her heeled boots clacking against the glassy floor to announce her arrival. Luke could already foresee the smug simper upon her alluring and equally terrifying face as she slinked behind his seat, dragging a hand over the back of it before halting at his left, peering down at him quizzically with a hip jutted out expectantly.

Leia Skywalker. Goddess of the Sith. Luke's twin sister. Cunning, beguiling, and unbeatable. Her lineage was unsurprising, when one considered the extents to which she could manipulate the Force, the limits she could be pushed to while in combat. Sure, Luke was a fine poster-boy for the Dark Side, skilled with a blade and unsurpassed in wit. Leia, though—

Leia was _born_ for it.

Systems crumbled at her command. Men were brought to their knees with a simple nod of her head, whimpering for mercy at her feet. Leia had little mercy to offer. She made heads roll, slashing bloodless smiles into the necks of her challengers with her infamous double-bladed lightsaber, the crimson beams moving too quickly for mortal eyes to follow. And now she stood at her brother's arm, donned in garments similar to his, with her dark hair gathered high on her head and slung over her shoulder in a thick plait. Her being emitted such authority that even Luke found himself shifting in his seat, sitting up straighter. He made a point to let his youthful face fall into a stony expression, to appear undaunted.

For Leia was the only soul ever who had any influence over him.

"I'm not sulking," Luke muttered, raising his chin. Leia rolled her eyes with a ghost of a smile upon her pink lips and darted before her brother so her brown eyes could directly meet his light ones.

"Perhaps not," she shrugged. "But you're thinking hard. I can sense it."

"Insightful." Growled Luke, his voice thick with mockery. The smile fell from Leia's mouth.

"It's that Jade girl, isn't it?" She said, mindfully striking a nerve within her twin. Luke stiffened, and shot her a glare.

"Mara has nothing to do with it," he insisted, avoiding her scrutiny. "She's irrelevant."

Leia laughed coldly. "You liar," she sang, aggravating her brother in a way that only she could. "Little Mara Jade proved that even Luke Skywalker has a heart. You know, you think of her quite a lot, probably more than you should—"

"Stay _out_ of my head, Leia," Luke warned her darkly, though he did not discourage his sister in the slightest.

"I'm only trying to help you," she reasoned, a smirk rising upon her face. "I'm sure you'd much rather _I_ see your thoughts than . . . a certain other."

Luke paled. Leia was flooded with triumph. Though she didn't know it, she cared for her brother. Loved him, even. No matter how blackened their hearts had become, the connection that had tethered them together since their birth was stronger than any sway of the Force, any spur of the darkness. And though the twins were oblivious to the reality of it, they each stoked their own fears within their smoldering chests, personal horrors that chased sleep from them in the deadest hour of the night. They feared for each other. And now that Luke was beginning to exhibit weakness—something that was unheard of when it came to their training—Leia was _afraid_. Two petrified weapons of the Sith were useless. Emperor Sidious did not harbor those who were useless.

"Please, just—" Luke rubbed his temples roughly. "I don't want to talk about her."

"About Mara?"

"Leia, _please_."

"Alright," she held her hands up in surrender. "Alright. I understand. Just—figure out a way to push aside whatever you're feeling. Today's too important for any distractions."

"I know," Luke sighed. "Just give me a minute."

"You don't have one," demurred Leia. "I just received his transmission. His ship's docked onto ours. I hope you're ready."

Luke looked to her in disbelief, though Leia offered nothing but a vaguely grim and emotionless expression. Cursing beneath his breath, Luke jumped to his feet.

"Where are we meeting him?" He demanded, a shred of notable alarm rising in his voice.

"Lower-east wing," Leia told him. As soon as the words left her lips, Luke was on the move. He stomped from the room, cloak billowing behind him like a blackened breeze. Leia huffed, irritated by her brother's equivocal fussing. She quickly caught up with Luke, almost having to jog to reach him as they marched down the dim, shining corridor. His blue eyes were flashing dangerously, noticeable even in the little offered light, deadly enough to ward off anyone but Leia.

"You need to calm down," she warned her twin, eyeing him forebodingly. "If you present yourself like this, he'll know something is wrong." Leia paused. "Where is this thing for the Jade woman coming from? She's a rogue assassin, disloyal to the Empire. Why her?"

Luke brushed her off. "There's nothing to do with Mara."

"And yet you refer to her by her first name . . ."

Luke would have retaliated, but they had arrived at the East Wing.

Both siblings fell completely silent, and stepped into the hangar.

• • •

 **THROUGH** the transparisteel holo-plates that shielded his sunken and hollow eyes, Darth Vader saw his children.

Straight-backed, stone-faced, iron-willed. Swaddled in the Dark Side itself. They radiated domination, supremacy, concentrated _strength_. Twin powerhouses of the Sith. Everything the Jedi Order would have wanted, yet so much _more_.

Luke. Clever as they came, with twice the incisiveness of any meditative monk from the Old Republic. Filled with untamable drive and motivation for his cause, a desire for _success—_ a ferocity of sorts. Just like his mother.

And Leia. _His_ Leia. The young woman whose eyes reflected his own, not in color, but in undying fire. Vader saw himself in his only daughter. Her ferocious spirit mimicked that of a young Anakin Skywalker, and to a greater extent, the Anakin Skywalker everyone had _expected_. The romanticized, invincible champion of the galaxy, the Chosen One—

The Hero With No Fear. Leia would have been the HoloNet's most revered personality, had she been in his place. What the public wanted _through and through._ She was not afraid. _Truly_. Anakin Skywalker could not get what he wanted. Darth Vader could. But Leia?

She could walk into a dying star and emerge from the other side unscathed without changing a single thing about herself.

His thick black boots barely sounded against the slick floor as he strode towards his posterity, cape flowing behind him and melding with the shadows of the room. Various lights flickered and blinked upon the panel secured over his chest, one panel of many that held his whisper of a life in its coding. His labored breathing filled the silence, every inhalation followed by an equally rhythmic exhalation. Luke's face darkened. Leia's smirk grew.

"I hope your travel suited you well," the girl hummed without a tremble of intimidation in her voice—

" _Father_."


End file.
